


Too Close

by ubicaritas (Janet)



Category: Hawaii Five-O (1968)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 07:28:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5576680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janet/pseuds/ubicaritas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It was that close,” Steve said.  “<i>Too close</i> to a very different outcome.” An ATC to 'The Young Assassins'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Close

“Howzit, Danno?”

“Close, Steve.”

The moment of awful darkness had given way to a rush of relief and joy and even more emotion than Steve would have thought possible. Danny was alive! Army, the leader of the so-called People's Attack Group, had not been successful in his attempt to kill his second hostage. Even as this realization was sinking in, Steve could hear in the background the sounds of the other members of the group being subdued by HPD officers.

Now, he smiled at his rescued officer and motioned down the bunker tunnel. “Yeah... yeah, too close,” he said, giving the younger man's shoulder a quick reassuring squeeze. “Let's go.” 

They stepped into the anteroom of the old gun battery, where the PAG had 'lived' during their final days of existence. Furniture was tossed around, effects scattered; HPD members who had accompanied Steve on the raid were in the final stages of securing their prisoner for transport to headquarters.

“Book him!” Steve gestured back toward the corridor, and a couple of officers promptly headed in that direction, towards the powder magazine that had served as the deadly cell, where the now-semiconscious Army sat dazedly on the floor, unable to offer any resistance to his own capture.

The two men emerged, blinking, into the welcoming daylight and climbed the steps away from the door. The early afternoon sun was warm, the breeze soft and filled with the fragrance of the grasses and scrub brush that surrounded the battery entrance. The contrast to the dank, stagnant air of the bunker was acute; Steve took a deep, cleansing breath, and was aware of Danny doing the same beside him.

“The car's over there,” Steve said, pointing to the driveway where several blue-and-whites and military vehicles were parked, roof lights still flashing on some of them. The big black Mercury was there too, an inviting bastion of familiarity and safety, waiting to take them away from this place.

Again Danny nodded wordlessly, and the two walked down the wide concrete path toward the driveway.

They had just about reached the car when Danny faltered, a hand going to his forehead as he slowed, not quite stumbling but clearly no longer sure on his feet. Instantly Steve was beside him, a hand under his elbow, steadying the younger man as he swayed slightly.

“Danno?”

But Danny shook him off, pulling clear of his supporting grip. “I'm okay, Steve,” he said, in a low voice with only the faintest of tremors. And as Steve watched, he saw Danny pull on an all-too familiar mask, one that he himself had used on many occasions. His second in command actually stood taller, straightened his shoulders, and with sure steps continued the journey to the Mercury's door.

Steve implicitly understood Danny's need to leave this place of terror and death, where even now in this driveway the Attack Group members were being led to waiting police vehicles, with his head held high, undefeated and unbowed by the horrors of the past two days. He opened the car door for his officer, waited as he settled himself, then quickly climbed into the driver's seat. As he started the engine and eased the car into gear, a pair of burly HPD officers stepped into their path, supporting between them the fatigue-clad Army. The prisoner turned to look in at them, his dark, malevolent gaze catching and holding Danny in his sight. Danny's blue eyes blazed back at him, fierce and unblinking, contact between them only broken as the car began to move forward past the group.

They were well along the road, around the corner and away from the battery, before Danny gradually slumped in his seat, exhaling audibly and allowing his head to drop forward. Steve glanced sharply at his companion, noted with concern the slight shudder in his shoulders and trembling hands. Once they reached the Diamond Head Road, along the base of the ancient volcano, he pointed the car in the direction of safety and care.

O o O o O

Steve was pacing: steady, measured steps that took him the short length of the corridor and back again. He alternated this with sitting motionless in a chair set opposite a closed door, staring at it until the silence and inactivity drove him to again rise and walk again. But when the door finally opened and Dr. Bergman stepped out into the hallway, Steve was instantly at his side, catching only a quick glance of the figure on the bed inside the room.

“Doc?”

“He's fine, Steve,” the coroner and Five-O's personal physician said. “Exhausted, mildly dehydrated, a few bumps and bruises. And no concussion,” he added. “Although he did need a couple of stitches in his forehead to close that cut. He said someone called Army hit him with a pistol butt...?”

The coil of tension that had been a part of Steve for several days began to loosen its grip at the doctor's reassuring words. “It was that close,” he said. “ _Too close_ to a very different outcome.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Can I see him now?”

“Sure,” Dr. Bergman replied. “I have him on an intravenous drip to treat the dehydration, and the painkiller I gave him for his headache may be making him sleepy.” He paused with his hand on the door handle. “I'll see how he's doing in a couple of hours, but I'd really like to keep him overnight for observation.” He opened the door and motioned for Steve to follow him. “Just keep it brief, all right?” Steve nodded wordlessly and entered the room.

Danny was lying in the bed, eyes closed; a small white bandage covered the wound on his left temple. His bunker-damp, dirt-stained clothing had been replaced by a crisp hospital gown, and someone, probably one of the nurses, had taken the time to wash away the blood and grime from his face, although a three-days shadowy stubble was clearly visible on his face. As the doctor had explained, an IV bottle hung on a pole beside the bed, the clear liquid dripping in a rhythm which complemented the patient's slow and steady breathing. 

“Danno.”

At the sound of Steve's voice, Danny stirred, eyes opening but unfocussed until they came to rest on the Five-O chief. “Steve,” he said, moving to try to sit up.

Steve held up his hand. “Easy, easy” he said. “Just relax. Doc's taking good care of you.”

Danny settled back onto the pillow. His eyes drifted closed again for a moment, but then abruptly re-opened as he fixed his gaze on Steve. “You got them all, right? Army and all his followers at the bunker?”

“Yes, we got them,” Steve said. “The People's Attack Group is no more. And with the charges they'll be facing, none of them will see the light of day for a very long time.”

“That's good,” Danny whispered. Sleep was beginning to claim him again; his eyes closed and his head lolled gently to one side.

Steve watched him for a moment, then stepped back to the door as Dr. Bergman signalled him to leave. “Sleep well, Danno.”

**Pau**


End file.
